Holding the hand of a goddess.
Each step lead to a new destination.
But this time if you listened closely
the windows started whispering.
Saying they were slightly cracking.
I always wondered what they were talking about.
Now I know.
Never trust those shadows she follows.
Because each time she does.
They'll crumble.
YOU ARE READING
Windows.
Short StoryI guess watch out for foolery and language. I just finally wanted to publish it :)
